ILL-TIMED ENTANGLEMENTS (The Kate Huntington mystery series #2) (11 page)

Finally she’d shrugged and said, “I remember the conversation but not who actually said that.”

That was more than they had gotten out of Mr. Forsythe. He hadn’t even remembered the conversation.

And they’d had even less success with the Berkeleys. The husband had refused to open the door further than the security chain would allow. Through the narrow crack he had appeared to be a short frail man, probably in his mid to late eighties. “The Missus ain’t home. She said I can’t talk to nobody ‘less she’s here.” When Kate had asked if his wife was expected back soon, the man had shrugged, then closed the door.

Kate planned to ask Rose and Mac to talk to the couple. If the wife was as frail as the husband, they might find Skip’s size intimidating.

As Skip held the door to Betty’s building open for her, Kate said, “I’ve been thinking that we should get a stronger lock for Betty’s apartment.”

“I had the same thought but I don’t know how much good it would do,” Skip replied. “Someone determined to get in usually succeeds. I’m actually hoping he’ll try to break in tonight. I’ll be waiting for him this time.”

“Don’t be sexist now. The killer could be a woman,” Kate admonished in a teasing tone, as they started around the atrium. “I wouldn’t put it past Mrs. Forsythe, if she had a motive.”

Skip smiled down at her. “She’s a piece of work, isn’t she?”

Kate looked across the atrium and spotted a man, laden with groceries, entering the elevator. She thought she recognized the weathered face and wiry build. Taking off for the elevator, she left a startled Skip behind.

The man saw her coming and quickly lowered the box he was carrying in one hand to the floor. He jabbed at the close-door button. The doors obeyed before Kate could get close enough to insert a hand between them.

Turning, she collided with Skip, then ducked around him. “I think that was Morris,” she said breathlessly, then she raced back across the atrium toward the door for the fire stairs. Skip passed her and took the stairs three steps at a time. By the time Kate made it to the second level, he was halfway down the walkway headed for Morris’s door.

However, even Skip’s long legs could not outdistance the other man, whose apartment was just around the corner from the elevator. Kate saw two thin weathered hands reach out to snatch the last of the groceries out of the hallway, then the door slammed shut just before Skip got there.

Kate caught up to him and leaned over, hands on her knees, gasping for air. “Damn. Probably no point in knocking,” she huffed out. Irritatingly, Skip was not even breathing hard.

“Kinda feel like a hound dog chasin’ a car,” he drawled, a hint of Southern roots creeping into his voice. “What was I s’posed to do with him if I’d caught him?” He was grinning at her.

Kate gave Skip a mock scowl and sucked in more oxygen. “I was hoping to get to his door before he did. Block his way and maybe sweet talk him into letting us in and talking to us.”

“Don’t think he’s in the mood for sweet talk right now,” Skip observed, still grinning at her.

Kate ignored him and took out her cell phone to call Mac.

“What’s up, sweet pea?”

“Skip and I just tried to catch up with Morris but he got away from us. How about you and Rose come knock on his door. See if he’ll talk to you.” Kate was thinking maybe Morris might just be able to relate to Mac, curmudgeon to curmudgeon. Worth a try.

•   •   •

They went down the stairs to the first floor. As they reached the public restrooms near the elevator, Skip tilted his head in the direction of the men’s room door. “Need to make a stop.”

Kate gestured toward one of the benches. “I’ll wait over there. My feet are killing me.”

Skip looked up at the second level railing. The bench Kate had indicated was not directly under it, but nonetheless he said, “Watch out for pots falling out of the sky.”

Kate was in the process of sinking down on the bench when she caught movement out of the corner of her eye. Turning her head, she saw the back of a khaki shirt, a work boot and khaki-covered leg disappearing through a door marked
Employees Only
.

Realizing it was probably Joe, the elusive maintenance man, Kate jumped up and hustled over to the door. She opened it and stuck her head in to look around for him. Most of the room was taken up by a large piece of machinery that Kate guessed must be the furnace or air conditioner, or maybe the air handler for both. It emitted a low rumble. There were about four feet between it and the walls on all sides. To Kate’s right she noticed a narrow workbench running along the adjoining wall.

Thinking that might be where Joe was, she headed that way. Rounding the corner, she was disappointed to see nothing but a few jars and paint cans sitting on the workbench. She jumped when someone tapped her on the shoulder and growled, “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

The man’s angry tone turned to syrup when she spun around. “Well, hello there.” He was standing rather close to her, flashing her a charming smile. She took a step backward.

Kate got a fairly good look at him, before he took a step closer to her again. Frieda had been right. He was a good-looking man–not much taller than her, lean and muscular, with that bad-boy James Dean look.

And from the way he was leering at her, he apparently was well aware of his attractiveness. A shiver of anxiety ran down Kate’s spine.

“Sorry to disturb you,” she said, trying to keep her voice calm. “You must be Joe.”

“That I am. And what’s
your
name, pretty lady?”

“I’m Betty Franklin’s friend.” She felt resistant to giving him her name so she left it at that. Trying to be subtle as she shifted back away from him a bit, she continued, “I’m, uh, trying to clear her. You may have heard she’s a suspect in Mrs. Blackwell’s death.”

Having succeeded in putting a semi-reasonable amount of space between them, Kate relaxed slightly. “I figured that since you’re in and out of this building regularly, you probably see and hear a lot. Maybe you could give me some insights, you know, into the personalities of the residents here?”

“Yeah, I’m in and out a lot…” He cocked an eyebrow at her suggestively, then stepped in too close again. Kate pretended not to notice the lewd double entendre as she edged away once more.

“But I don’t pay much attention to the oldsters,” he said. “Just do my work, so’s I can get through the day and then go
partyin’
at night.”

“I think someone mentioned that you did sometimes talk to Mrs. Blackwell. I hear she was a bit of a flirt,” Kate said, fighting the temptation to cut and run.

“Yeah, she musta thought she was matty hairy or somethin’,” Joe said, with a derisive chuckle. It took a second for Kate to realize he meant Mata Hari.

Kate was afraid to ask him outright if he’d ever had sex with Doris. This guy might interpret such a query as interest on her own part, and he did
not
need any encouragement. “So you didn’t have any other contact with her, other than talking to her?”

“Naw, I like older women.” He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, then gave a mock shudder. “But not that old.”

“Thanks for your time, Joe,” Kate said. He didn’t take the hint and move aside so she could pass.

“Well, now, since I’ve answered your questions, how ’bout we spend a little time on some
other
subjects?” He closed in again and leaned toward her. “You like to
party
, pretty lady?”

Fear shot through her as Kate realized he had maneuvered her into the back corner of the room. She was about to scream when the sound of the door opening was followed by Skip calling, “Kate, you in here?”

“Yes!” she yelped. Skip came around the corner of the air-handler and rapidly took in the scene–Kate’s scared, pale face peering past the man who had spun around, fists halfway up, his expression twisted in anger at the interruption.

When Joe got a good look at his adversary, his demeanor changed abruptly. His face blank, he said, “Glad to be of help, ma’am.” He turned slightly back toward Kate but never took his eyes off Skip. “You have any more questions, you know where ta find me.” Turning his head a bit further away from Skip, he winked at her.

Joe moved aside so Kate could push past. She stepped quickly around him, her elbow intentionally sticking out toward his chest to jab him, if necessary. She wouldn’t put it past this guy to try to grope her, even with Skip looming over him.

Not willing to turn his back on the creep, Skip backed around the corner, pulling Kate along with him, then quickly maneuvered her around him and out the door. He wrapped his long fingers around her upper arm and hustled her rapidly across the atrium.

As they neared the hallway leading to Betty’s apartment, he tightened his grip and veered sharply toward the outer door of the building instead.

“Hey, what are you doing? Where are we going?” Kate gasped.

Looking straight ahead, his jaw tight, Skip ignored her questions as he dragged her out the door into the summer heat. He took a dozen long strides away from the building. She had to jog beside him to keep from losing her footing.

When he stopped, she shook her arm loose and stepped away from him. “What the
hell
do you think you’re doing?” she spat at him.

“What the hell do I think
I’m
doing!” He yelled, then lowered his voice to a growl when a group of residents heading into the building turned to stare. “What the hell did you think
you
were doing? Are you crazy? Going into that room with that… that scumbag.”

Kate just stood there, hands belligerently on her hips. But she couldn’t think of a thing to say. It had been foolish to follow Joe through that door. She lowered her hands to her side, then rubbed her arm where Skip had grabbed her.

“Okay, I shouldn’t have gone in there. But I was just looking for the guy and he crept up behind me. I… I didn’t know what was in there when I opened the door. It didn’t occur to me how easily he could get me cornered in there or I never would’ve gone in.”

“Shit, Kate, I thought you were smarter than that!”

Kate’s hands were back on her hips. “Now wait just a damn minute, Skip Canfield,” she hissed. “I already admitted it was a stupid move. Anyone can have the occasional lapse in judgment. And don’t you
ever
lay hands on me again!”

Skip deflated like a popped balloon. “Aw, Kate, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have grabbed you like that. But you can’t even imagine how scared I was when I came around that corner and saw that weasel about to…”

“Ha!
You
were scared. Not half as scared as I was.” She tried to laugh but it came out on a sob. And suddenly she was shaking and crying.

He closed the gap between them in one stride and gathered her into his arms. Holding her, he whispered, “Sh, sh, sh, you’re okay, sh, sh, sh,” into her hair until her sobs subsided.

Finally she put her hands on his chest and gently pushed a bit away from him. He resisted letting her go for half a beat, then reached into his back pocket for his handkerchief.

Not looking at him, she dried her cheeks and eyes. “It was pretty stupid. I just didn’t think. I saw him go in there and thought how we’d been trying to catch up with him, and I just grabbed at the chance to question him.”

She started trembling again at the thought of how the scene could have ended if Skip hadn’t arrived when he did. She’d taken self-defense classes, but she wasn’t at all sure she could have fought Joe off, especially backed into a corner. And the room was probably sound-proofed so the machinery noises wouldn’t disturb the residents.

Skip put an arm around her shoulders and steered her toward a bench next to a small pond between the buildings. As they sat down, she asked, “What made you think to come looking for me in that room?”

“I don’t know. At first I thought you might have gone into the ladies’ room. But when you didn’t come out after a minute, I figured you must’ve gone back to Betty’s apartment. I started heading that way, but when I saw the employees-only sign on that door, something, some instinct, I guess, just told me I should check in there.”

“Well, thank God you’ve got good instincts.” They sat for a few moments, until the silence grew awkward. Kate looked down at the crumpled soggy handkerchief in her hands.

Grasping for something to say, she half-whispered, “You know, men carrying cloth handkerchiefs is a dying art form. You’re only the third man I know who still carries one. My husband did, and so does Rob. It’s a tradition I hate to see fading.”

Then she smiled up at him. “‘Cause I seem to use the handkerchiefs of the men in my life more than they do.”

Skip’s heart gave a lurch in his chest. She considered him a man in her life. He smiled back at her. Eyeing the gooey blob of cloth, he said, “Uh, I think I’ll let you keep that one.”

She glanced down. “I’ll get it back to you. I figure eventually I’ll be able to go home and do mundane things, like laundry.” When she looked up at him again, dark lashes still damp around sky blue eyes, Skip’s heart did a funny little flip. He felt a bit light-headed.

Kate’s analytical mind hadn’t finished examining the nuances of male handkerchiefs. “You know, a man giving someone his handkerchief, it’s very… I guess
supportive
is the right word. It’s a very supportive gesture.”

Skip was staring into her eyes, as her voice dropped almost to a whisper. “I saw Eddie slip his to Rob one time, when Liz was in surgery…”

Skip’s mind wasn’t registering her words. He was distracted by a growing realization. Before he had been interested in this woman. But somewhere in the last ten minutes or so–since he’d walked into that machine room and had seen her in jeopardy–something had shifted.
Damn, Skippy, you’re in trouble now.

He put a finger under her chin and leaned down to kiss her. Her eyes grew wide but she didn’t pull back. He kept the kiss chaste and tender. After a moment she closed her eyes. He closed his own and lost himself in the soft warmth of her lips.

Eventually she broke free. “Skip…” she said softly, breathless.

“I know, too soon,” he said equally softly, his lips still hovering close to hers.